


Just KNOCK First

by tempus_teapot (dreadnot)



Series: Volutions Shorts [6]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Edging, Fingering, M/M, volutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4924348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadnot/pseuds/tempus_teapot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why did Hawke get his beard burned half off? He didn't knock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just KNOCK First

**Author's Note:**

> I posted [Why Locks Are Only Useful if You LOCK Them](http://archiveofourown.org/works/280202/chapters/11283607) in response to a tumblr prompt and then found myself thinking about just what had led up to Hawke's beard injury. This answers that.

They’d been at it for days. At night, camped out on the Wounded Coast with no tent and Hawke and Aveline sleeping or keeping watch close by, the most Anders had gotten from Fenris was a brush of a gauntleted hand on his arm or a murmur in his ear close enough for him to feel warm breath on his skin, _Wake me when it’s my watch._ Only that, and only when no one was watching.

Intimate, maybe, but not the kind of intimacies that should have had him covertly watching Fenris and waiting for the opportunity to finally, finally touch him in return. Those little touches shouldn’t have felt like foreplay, but by the time they finally returned to Kirkwall, Anders was aching for the chance to have some privacy to realize the promise of those teasing moments.

Something about the curve of Fenris’ lips hinted that he wasn’t unaware of Anders’ frustration. 

When they returned to Kirkwall, Hawke sent them on their way with shares of the takings from their raids on Tal Vashoth while he detoured to the Black Emporium. Aveline went with Hawke to help carry their loot, but no one ever asked Anders or Fenris to return to Xenon’s shop. 

All the promise of the past days was realized the moment the door to Anders’ room closed. Ser Pounce-a-lot was on the other side of it and Anders was pushed against the door with Fenris holding his arms at the elbows, pinning him without pushing at his lingering fear of having his hands restrained. Some secret wounds were slow to heal, and the ones he’d incurred in Danarius’ chair were prone to make themselves known when Anders couldn’t use his hands. 

“Maker, finally.” Anders strained against the hold on his arms enough to know that Fenris would let him go if he really tried, then left that struggle in favor of trying to catch his lips for a kiss that Fenris avoided with a teasing smile. 

“You say that as though you’re expecting something.” He still gave Anders a lingering kiss that left his lips fuller and his smile even more smug. 

“Too right I am.” He licked his lips and tried to chase another kiss that Fenris didn’t allow. “Delayed gratification only goes so far.” 

“The question, mage, is how far?” 

“It’s mage now, is it?” Anders raised his eyebrows. If Fenris hadn’t still been smiling a little, he might have been annoyed, but as it was, the bloody elf had better be planning something good. 

“It’s always mage.” Fenris released one of his arms to free a hand to work on opening Anders’ coat. “You should get undressed now and we should test how far delayed gratification goes.” 

“As long as there’s some gratification in the plan, I’m in.”

_An hour later..._

“I’m…” Anders gasped and grabbed at the blankets to keep from what? Coming apart at the seams. Yes, that. He raised his head and gave Fenris a pleading look. “I’m rethinking this plan.”

Fenris looked up from where he knelt between Anders’ legs and held his gaze while he rubbed more salve on his fingers. “Are you asking me to let you come now?” 

Anders bit his lip and kept his teeth caught there to hold back just that plea. He shook his head, dropped it back to the mattress, and pushed his hips up. Dancing that edge? Yeah, it was worth it.

_Two hours later…_

His hair was sweat-plastered against his forehead, his breath was coming in gasps that he could just barely hear over the roar of blood in his ears, and that elf... Had a desire demon switched places with him at some point?

Better question was how in the name of all that was good and holy was Fenris able to look so composed? If he hadn’t made a long-term study of Fenris, he’d have to think that he was almost disinterested in what they’d been doing. 

He knew better. He saw how wide Fenris’ eyes got at times, caught the flick of his tongue wetting dry lips as he watched Anders arching off the bed, and even Fenris’ careful control couldn’t hide the rush of blood that darkened his cheeks and the tips of his ears. 

Good thing, because the last thing Anders wanted was someone doing that to him without enjoying himself.

_Fuck it, he didn’t know how much later…_

“I give! Please!” He raised up and grabbed at Fenris’ forearm to keep him from pulling away. “Please, Fenris, I need to come. Now.”

He was quivering and almost sobbing now. Fenris had brought him right to the brink of orgasm over and over, and every time Anders could feel his balls pulling tight and muscles deep in his groin giving first pulses, ready to spill hot and slick over his stomach or Fenris’ hand or into his mouth, Fenris had stopped moving or pulled away or wrapped long, strong fingers at the base of him and held that orgasm at bay with a firm grip. 

He ached, and that ache had just reached the point that he had to release it or the pleasurable ache would just be pain. 

Fenris nodded once and Anders fell into a well of sensation, fingers stretching him open and pushing deep, a hand smoothing slick salve onto his cock, and friction that built to heat, heat, heat… 

_Finally_ going to––

“Anders?”

Not Fenris’ voice. 

Anders’ eyes flew open and the building heat lashed out with no will behind it, only frustration and reflexes that had been honed by years spent running and fighting for his life, where split seconds to think were split seconds in which one died. 

Then he was coming, Fenris was shouting, Hawke was beating the flames out of his beard, and… 

... and he’d apologize to Hawke later.


End file.
